Third chapter, I still don't own anything.
Chapter Three- Rumors and Omens
It was the end of a long shift and Ken Hutchinson and his new partner Steve Barlow were just finishing up before leaving when the phone rang. Steve got it first.
"Barlow here... Oh hi, sweetie!" By the delight in his voice it was obvious the caller was his fiancée, Angelina. But then his face fell. "Oh, OK. That's too bad, I was looking forward to seeing you." There was a short pause. "No, I'll be fine. I have stuff for dinner in the fridge, I won't starve." Another short pause. "OK, I'll see you tomorrow then. Take care when you leave." He hung up with a sigh.
"Something wrong?" Hutch asked with some concern. He liked both Steve and Angelina.
The brown-haired younger man shrugged. "Angelina and I were going out for dinner tonight, but she got pulled into doing an extra shift." Angelina was a nurse at County General Hospital. "Oh well, I can dig up something."
Hutch thought for a moment. As far as he knew Starsky and he had nothing special planned for the night. "You want to come over to our place for dinner?"
"I'd love to, but I don't want to intrude...." Although the police department had finally assented to allowing gay cops, Steve was still one of the few people outside of their families who knew about Starsky and Hutch's new relationship. They had told him when Hutch realized that if anything happened to him on the job, Steve would need to know in order to deal with Starsky's reactions.
"We aren't doing anything tonight. But it's Starsky's turn to fix dinner, and I should find out what he's making first. With Starsky, it can be scary." Memories of peanut butter burritos brought a wry smile to Hutch's face. He reached for the phone.
"Jacobs residence, Dave Starsky speaking." They were house-sitting for Professor Martin Jacobs, while the professor and his wife were in England at Oxford for eighteen months. Although it had been almost three quarters of a year, there were still occasional phone calls from people who didn't know that the Jacobs weren't there.
"Hey Starsk, it's me."
"Hey Blondie. You on your way home?"
How can just the sound of a voice fill me with such happiness? "Just finishing up. But Barlow got stood up by Angelina. She has to work an extra shift. OK if I ask him for dinner?"
"Well, it's just meatloaf and a salad. But sure, if he doesn't mind that it's nothin' fancy. Least there's plenty of it."
Hutch gave inner thanks that it wasn't something more creative. Starsky's meatloaf was actually pretty good. "I'm sure he won't mind. We'll be right there." But then he stopped. There was something in Starsky's voice... "Is everything OK?"
"Yeah, yeah, no problem. There was just something that I wanted to talk to you about, but it's no big deal, it can wait til later."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, it's nothing big, and I'd love to see Barlow." The obvious sincerity of Starsky's voice reassured Hutch. "Gotta' check up that you're bein' good without me," he added.
"OK, we'll be right over, then."
"You're sure Starsky's OK with this?" Steve asked as they headed for the parking lot. He had picked Hutch up that morning and they were using his car. "You sounded like he might not have been happy."
"No, he's fine. He had something he wants to talk about but he said it could wait."
Hutch felt himself growing tense as they left the building. The parking lot did that to him all the time now, left him with memories burned into his brain of Starsky lying huddled against the wheel of the Torino, bleeding out through Hutch's fingers as he'd tried desperately to staunch the wounds. He hunched into himself and hurried towards his car. It had been so close, so close... he'd almost lost Starsky before he'd really had him.
"Well, if you're sure..." Steve looked at him in concern. Hutch had never told him how the parking lot affected him, but Hutch was sure the young officer was sensitive enough to have guessed.
"I'm sure." They got in Steve's car. As they pulled away, Hutch relaxed a little. But even though some of his tension receded, he still felt an oppressive sense of foreboding. It annoyed him... Starsky was alive, was fine... there was no reason for his constant sense of unease. Yet it was there, and contrary to all logic, it had been growing over the past few days. He made a concerted effort and put it out of his mind.
When they reached the little cottage, Steve excused himself immediately to use the bathroom. Hutch assumed he was being discreet and allowing him to greet Starsky alone.
Starsky was in the kitchen, taking something out of a cupboard with his back to the door when Hutch came in. "Hi, Babe," he said over his shoulder as he reached for the top shelf.
The rush of love was almost too great to contain. He reached for Starsky, pulled them together, and held him tightly. Starsky arched against him as Hutch's hands held his chest. Laying his head against Starsky's back he nuzzled his neck. "Missed you today," he murmured.
Starsky twisted around in his grasp, and brought their lips together in a kiss. "Missed you too," he said as they moved apart. "Where's Barlow?" he added.
Regretfully Hutch pulled away. "He's in the bathroom. I think he wanted to give us some privacy."
There was a noise in the living room just then, and Steve's voice said "Hiya' Euripides." There were some happy dog noises as he stopped to play with the small Jack Russell terrier they were sitting for along with the house.
"I think that's his way of letting us know he's out of the bathroom," Starsky said with a grin. "Hey, Barlow, come on in, we're in the kitchen."
Steve poked his head cautiously around the door. "Hi Starsky. How's it shakin'?"
Starsky laughed. "Shakin' good, Barlow. How's the Blintz been behaving himself?"
"I've been keeping him under control. Taking care of him for you."
Starsky nodded approvingly. "Remember, I don't want him getting dinged."
"I got it covered," Steve said smiling.
Hutch looked between the two of them, but decided against saying anything. He knew it was important to Starsky to think that Steve was keeping an eye on him the way that Starsky would have himself if he could have, and he was thankful that the two got along so well. "You want a beer, Barlow?"
They moved out to the dining room. Starsky served the meatloaf, and everyone helped themselves to salad.
"So what's Dobey got you guys up to now?" Starsky asked, taking a swig of beer.
Hutch swallowed a bite of meatloaf. "Well, just today he put us on the drug case, you know, the new stuff they're calling 'Big-C'."
"Yeah? What is it, anyway?" Starsky asked.
Hutch took a sip of beer. "Well the thing is, they can't get an exact chemical analysis, but whatever it is, it's nasty. It seems to start with some hallucinogen close to bufotenine, and go on from there."
"Bufo... whatever you said, what's that?" Starsky looked quizzical.
"It comes from the skins of toads, Starsk."
Starsky made a face. "Ewwww... that's really gross. You telling me that you can get stoned from toads?"
Hutch laughed. "There's some people who actually lick them for the effect. Of course, it has to be the right sort of toad. Some of 'em are poisonous instead of psychedelic, and the toad licker gets a higher high than they expected… permanently."
"When I was in college," Steve broke in, "There were some kids who used to go out to the Sonora Desert and collect them. Free, all-natural, what more could you ask for?"
"And they licked them? Toads? Just to trip?" Starsky was incredulous.
"No," Steve explained. "You can lick them, but the more common way is to milk the poison out, dry it, and smoke it. It doesn't even hurt the toad if you're careful."
"Ew. What kind of high was it?"
"They said it was really intense, but didn't last long. A lot of them said they tripped on desert scenes, like the toads' home."
Starsky shuddered. "Think I'm glad I skipped the college experience. So anyway, this stuff is toad skins?"
Hutch shook his head. "No, it starts with something close to bufotenine, but it isn't quite the same. But there's more than that, it's a real blend. There's some sort of narcotic as well, and there even seems to be something like tetradotoxin in with it, but that really makes no sense, because tetradotoxin is a nerve poison. It's found in things like puffer fish and poisonous octopuses. They think an overdose of the tetradotoxin is what causes the deaths that we have."
"Toads? Frogs? Fish and octopuses? Someone seems to like slimy creepy-crawlies."
"Well, that goes along with the other name we've heard for this stuff," Steve put in. "Sea Dreams. The story is that it causes you to hallucinate about ocean scenes, not desert ones like the toads. Of course, we only have rumors. So far the only people we know for sure have taken it are dead. Everything else is just from a friend of a friend, or someone said, or the word on the street. No one wants to admit to knowing about it personally."
"Ocean scenes, huh?" There was a sudden uneasiness in Starsky's voice that made Hutch glance at him in surprise. "What sort of ocean scenes?"
Steve shook his head. "I don't know, I don't think we heard anything particular. Fish, coral, seaweed… Hutch, you hear anything more than that?"
Hutch shrugged. "Um, I think someone might have mentioned a drowned city, something about fish swimming around the stones. Why do you want to know, Buddy?"
"No reason in particular." Starsky smiled disarmingly, but Hutch could tell that he wasn't telling the truth. Starsky had a reason for asking that he didn't want to divulge. All right, Partner. We'll drop it while Barlow's here, but afterwards, you're coming clean.
"So you don't know where this stuff is coming from at all?" Starsky went on. "Or who's behind it?"
"Not a clue. Which is disturbing in itself. The whole street is silent on a source. Even Huggy hasn't picked up anything."
"Huh. Nothing from any of the other suppliers? Jealousy or anything? This stuff has gotta' be bringing in millions for whoever's behind it. It's gotta' be cutting into profits for the others, too."
"Not a single thing," Steve agreed. "Not about anything. It's weird. We know the stuff is out there, we have dead bodies to prove it, but for all anyone admits to knowing, it could be nothing but imagination. It's just... weird."
Starsky shook his head. "Really," he agreed. "So what are you doing?"
Hutch shrugged. "What can we do? The usual stuff. Talking to people, listening... you have any ideas, Buddy?"
"I'll let you know if I think of anything." Starsky started clearing the table. "You guys want dessert? I got ice cream."
After dinner they had coffee, and sat in the living room for awhile, but eventually when Hutch said he had to walk the dog, Steve said it was time for him to go.
"Pick you up tomorrow?" he asked as Hutch leashed Euripides. Steve liked using his own car because he shared Starsky's opinion of Hutch's taste in vehicles.
"Yeah, sounds good. Hang on, I'll walk you to the car. I'll be right back for the dishes," he added over his shoulder to Starsky. Because Starsky had cooked, it was Hutch's turn to clean up.
It was cool outside. Steve had parked down the block, because Starsky's Torino, lovingly restored to its glory, was in the driveway, and Hutch's latest clunker was in front of the cottage.
Across the street a late passer-by loitered. Hutch gave him a hard look, and he shambled off. Steve noticed, and laughed. "What, you think someone is casing the joint?"
"Could be. You never know, that's why the Jacobs wanted us here after all."
"Be a pretty nasty surprise for a burglar to find two cops in residence," Steve grinned.
"Yeah, I guess so at that." Hutch slapped him on the back. "OK, Barlow, I'll see you tomorrow." He and Euripides set off on their walk.
When he got back to the cottage, Starsky was relaxing in the living room, but he got up and followed Hutch into the kitchen.
"So what was it you wanted to talk about without Barlow?" Hutch asked as he scraped the plates.
"Something weird happened today," Starsky began. "Do you remember Mary Polanski? Madam Yram?"
Hutch made non-committal noises while he searched his memories.
"The hostage case?" Starsky prompted.
"Oh yeah, the fortune teller." Hutch remembered how the chubby little palm reader had obviously been taken with Starsky.
"She came to see me today."
Hutch made a face. "What about?"
"Well, that's the thing. You remember how when we met Joe Collandra, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I thought he was just a phony?"
"Yeah…" Hutch said noncommittally, wondering where Starsky was going with this.
"Well, Mary says she has visions too. Real ones. And… I'm pretty sure she's telling the truth."
"OK, it's possible. So what does it have to do with us?" Hutch started filling the dishpan.
"I think a lot," Starsky said seriously. "She says she saw us in her vision, that's why she came to see me. I think it has something to do with your drug case."
Hutch put the plate away he was drying and turned to Starsky, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Why do you say that?"
"Because of what she says she saw. Us, and a third guy she didn't know. Not Barlow, an older guy. And a stone city that had been under the ocean. Just like you said some people had seen on this drug. She said something evil was coming to Bay City, and we had to stop it. Us, and this other guy. And she saw something about the stars, but I didn't get that part."
"She could be scamming you, Buddy, you think of that?"
Starsky shook his head. "You didn't see her, Hutch. She was terrified. For real. Whatever she saw, she believes in it."
Hutch shrugged. He trusted Starsky's assessment of people. "OK, so she believes it. She could still be crazy. Hallucinating."
Starsky shook his head emphatically. "She convinced me, Hutch. The guy who didn't believe Joe Collandra without proof. She – knew things. About the time I was dead after the shooting. Stuff I only told you." He paused while that sank in. "Knew stuff I didn't tell anyone, including you. She knew, just by looking at me."
That gave Hutch pause. He wasn't sure what he thought about Starsky's near-death experience, except that Starsky believed it. But even if it was only a comforting hallucination Starsky's oxygen deprived brain had conjured up as his heart stopped, the fact that Mary Polanski knew about it, and knew what he'd seen, argued that at least she had some variety of the power that Hutch knew Joe Collandra had.
"OK, so even if she saw something, so what? What does it get us?"
Starsky shrugged. "I don't know. But if it's really as important as she says, and this drug is as bad as it sounds, maybe we ought to look into it?"
Hutch shook his head. "Look into what, Starsk? So far all you're saying is that she knew something bad was coming. Sounds like the drug itself. Now, if you can get a line on the other person she was talking about…"
"I told her to bring him around if she figured out who he was."
"Then I don't see what else we can do."
"But I don't think that the drug was the big evil thing she was talking about, Hutch. I think there's something else that she's seeing," Starsky said uneasily.
Hutch looked at him in surprise. "What do you think she's seeing then, Starsk?" he asked in exasperation. "Some kind of big green monster? Come on. We went through this with René Nadasy. There's no such thing as vampires, or ghoulies, or monsters. The human mind has some amazing potential, and that's why there's people like Joe Collandra, and maybe Mary Polanski too. But that's it." Hutch went back to doing the dishes, trying to ignore the fact that Starsky had that stubborn, pissed off look on his face. There was no way he was going to let this turn into a hunt for something supernatural.
"All that the Nadasy case proved was that Nadasy wasn't a vampire, Hutch. It didn't prove that there aren't vampires at all," Starsky pointed out. "And even if he wasn't a vampire, there was something pretty weird about Nadasy. Remember the way he jumped? Like he could fly? And how about the way he recovered from the injuries he'd had? He was supposed to be barely able to walk, not run and jump like that."
"So he fooled the doctors. People do it all the time. For insurance, for..."
"For what reason, Hutch? It ruined his career. If he could have come back and danced again..." Starsky trailed off. "Aw, this is pointless, Hutch. It's not Nadasy who's the problem now."
"Then why bring him up?" Hutch was determined not to give an inch.
"To try and get it through your blond head that there's more things in heaven and earth than you know about."
Starsky was obviously getting annoyed at him now, but Hutch couldn't resist teasing a little. "Been reading the Collected Shakespeare again, huh Starsk?" He smiled sweetly.
"Yeah, well, he was right, Hutch. There's somethin' going on here that's more than you think. I been feelin' it coming for awhile. Feelin' like something's creeping up on me."
That hit home, and Hutch suppressed a shiver. It was so close to what he had just been thinking when he left work... no, it must be a coincidence. Time to lighten the mood.
"Only thing creeping up on you, Babe, is me." He made a sudden grab and caught Starsky around the waist.
"Hey! What are you...?" Starsky's protest was muffled by the kiss Hutch planted on him, and in the ensuing scuffle, the subject was dropped.
Later that night, though, in the big queen sized bed, while Starsky slept soundly, Hutch lay awake, his head cushioned on Starsky's chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart.
He reviewed the events of the day. The drug case was a bitch. There seemed to be nowhere to go with it, just poke away and hope for a lucky break. He actually wished that Mary Polanski's vision had shown him some sort of direction to go in, but it didn't sound as though it did. Odd that Starsky felt so strongly about it, though. Well, maybe it was worth going and having a word with her. Or having Starsky talk to her again.
It was strange that both he and Starsky had felt that same feeling of something bad coming. Or maybe not. It was April. Soon the first anniversary of Starsky's shooting would be coming up. Not so strange, after all, that they should both feel that. Perfectly natural, really. Just reacting to the date, that's all, Hutch told himself firmly, and forced his mind to other things.
Just before he drifted off to sleep, he thought about the passer-by that had seemed to be watching the house when he saw Steve out. Was someone casing their home? It was possible. He would have to keep an eye out, maybe even glance through the mug books. Hutch felt sure that he would recognize the man again, because he had seemed so odd. There had been something wrong about his face, the curiously bulging eyes and wide mouth, and something even odder about that shambling walk when he finally moved on.